


Problematic

by UP2L8



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UP2L8/pseuds/UP2L8
Summary: Ed's been pining for a while. It's time he did something about it.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 28
Kudos: 147





	Problematic

**Author's Note:**

> Been sitting on this one for a while. No beta. Let me know if you see anything off.

Major General Mustang was not often in the field, at least not in Ed’s experience. He could count on the fingers of one hand, metal or otherwise, the number of times he’d seen his commander out on assignment. Back in the day, for some time after Ishval or so he’d been told, the Major General – Lieutenant Colonel at the time – was more of a hands-on commander. Venturing out to discover the Elrics in their darkest moment had been at the tail end of his transition from field commander to desk-bound bureaucrat, so for Ed to see Roy Mustang on duty outside of the office was something of a novelty.

The General stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, the white of his gloves in stark contrast to the blue of his uniform. In the early morning sunshine he was relaxed, observing the precise execution of his orders by his dedicated team. His eye listed over the devastated rebel encampment, lingering here and there, calculation in his eyes, always on guard for the unexpected. Like a captain at the helm of his ship, he studied the horizon for potential threats, unaware that he was being watched with the same intensity.

And Ed had to force himself to stop. He was starting to get all lyrical and shit, and that was a good indication that he had been enjoying the view for too long. Straightening his uniform jacket as he stood, Ed shook his head to regain his focus and tilted a rueful smile.

It wasn’t easy to be in love with his commander.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about hurting Winry with this anymore. That ship had sailed a long time ago, by mutual decision. They made much better friends than they had lovers, the hotheaded automail mechanic and her favorite client. It didn’t mean they loved each other any less. Just differently. And Ed’s dreams had always been of other things – the touch of strong hands clad in rough cloth, a deep masculine purr, blue eyes as dark as night peering deeply into his own.

Not that he’d ever experienced any of that. Not while he was awake, anyway. It was still a constant source of irritation. An itch he longed to scratch.

He wasn’t the only one with that itch, either. Ed saw them all the time. Soldiers in the halls of Central Headquarters, Generals as well, and their wives, daughters, sons, the secretarial staff, waiters and waitresses at the pub. They were everywhere. They cast their eyes upon him, and Mustang looked back, and sometimes didn’t look away.

Ed had long hoped to catch his attention like that, and hold it.

Hawkeye was stalking around the scene of the battle that had concluded their investigation, her mere presence keeping the detachment on task and focused. The insurgents were safely locked in a van ready for transport, the injured were currently on the way to hospital under guard, but the scene was far from secure. Evidence had to be collected and catalogued so that loose ends could be followed up and tied off.

This exercise wasn’t meant to unfold as it did, but, as usual, General Mustang had fallen into shit and jumped out of it clean as a whistle and smelling like roses.

Central Intelligence had heard the whisper of a possible coup in the planning stages by a highly organized group of insurgents. Lieutenant General Mustang’s team had ferreted out some compelling particulars, but before they could act on them, they had been removed from the investigation and deployed to the middle of nowhere - a concerning development all things considered. As it turned out, no deeper conspiracy was to blame. It seemed that the upper brass was worried about the rising popularity of their youngest general and hoped to get him out of the limelight so that someone more to their liking could claim credit for breaking the case.

Not that that had deterred Team Mustang. Thanks to their superior’s crazy-ass ability to think several steps ahead and his highly skilled investigation team - commanded by Edward himself – they had managed to track down the cadre’s core on the outskirts of nowhere despite false leads and misdirection. Mustang’s company had technically been outnumbered, but with Flame and Fullmetal in the vanguard, the rebels never really had a chance.

Mission accomplished, and fuck those bigshots back in Central who had hoped to steal Mustang’s thunder.

And Ed’s eyes had been drawn inevitably back to his General.

Mustang was still surveying his team’s progress. He turned his gaze toward Hawkeye, then past. They tracked to Havoc, then Breda, beyond to Fuery and Falman. The General suddenly stood straighter as he cast a sharper glance over the scene, a faint frown creasing his brow. His eyes slid to the left, to the right, found Ed, and drifted away. His expression never changed, but he relaxed again as he went back to surveying his team’s progress.

Ed frowned. What was that? Did it mean something? And if so, what?

Most likely, all it meant was that Ed was thinking wishfully for deeper meaning in a perfectly innocent gesture.

Shaking his head, Ed turned back to the task at hand.

~

“Next round’s on me!”

Havoc staggered to his feet, drunk on the team’s success and the local ale, and stumbled off in the general direction of the bar.

The small-town tavern was overflowing with uniformed soldiers celebrating a successful mission before making the long trek back to Central Command on the morrow. As much as the locals were wary of the military in their midst, they were grateful for the economic surge their celebration provided, and as the evening wore on were drawn into the festivities as well.

Mustang had been hit on three times within the first hour alone, with more admirers to follow, much to Havoc’s, and secretly Ed’s, annoyance. As yet Roy hadn’t responded to any of those advances. If he held true to his usual routine, Ed knew it wouldn’t be long before the man disappeared for the evening with a beautiful someone on his arm. The suave commander had probably already decided who he would spend the night with and was just waiting for her, or him, to make their move.

For now, however, it appeared that celebrating with his team was his main objective. Lounging back in his chair with a satisfied grin, he surveyed the room with gleaming eyes. To say that Roy was completely at ease would be a most astute observation.

It wasn’t like Ed had never experienced this side of his general before. At twenty-five years ancient, Ed had been under Roy’s command for the last thirteen. They had admittedly been at each other’s throats for the better part of the early days, back before Ed’s quest to restore his brother had successfully concluded, but even then, Ed had known that Roy was someone he could rely on. And Ed had earned Mustang’s trust as well. It had taken a while, but Ed‘s growing maturity had definitely tipped the scales. Now he could comfortably count Roy as one of his closest friends, and the frequent socializing and easy camaraderie outside the confines of their military roles confirmed that Roy counted Ed as a close confidant as well.

Mustang switched on his hundred-watt grin when Havoc returned with the round.

"I’d like to propose a toast," he declared.

Even sitting next to him, Ed could only just hear the man over the rowdy clamour of raised voices, the frequent peals of boisterous laughter, and the piano player pounding brazenly away at the keyboard somewhere over by the toilets. Still, he couldn’t help a fond smile. It wasn’t often that his friend and commander allowed himself to relax this way. 

Roy grabbed two mugs, and set one each down in front of Ed and Hawkeye. Hefting another, the General glanced around the table expectantly, waiting until everyone had raised their respective glasses before standing and raising his own in salute.

“To impending promotions, and taking another decisive step toward to our goal," he intoned with a smirk.

Hawkeye, at her General’s other hand, looked past him at Ed with a wry smile tilting her lips. She, like Ed, knew that having his two most vigilant protectors by his side allowed Roy to let down his guard.

Mustang wasn’t done. With his glass still held high, his command voice rose above the din.

“The success of this mission today will be seen by the Brass as mine alone, but I know better,” he said as the room became his. “A commander is only as good as the soldiers he commands. And for this mission, I was pleased to command a company of the finest soldiers Amestris has to offer.”

The lingering rumble of conversation had died to silence, and Mustang cast a proud gaze around the room.

“You all have chosen to dedicate your lives to Amestris, to protect the lives of others, to live not just for yourselves, but for the greater good. Your dedication makes a difference, not just today, not just when the fates smile upon us, but every single day that you serve. I am proud to serve with you, enlisted, officers, brothers and sisters in arms, all. Here’s to you!”

They roared their approval. And then they drank. And then they cheered some more. And then Ed had to stand up too.

“Everything General Mustang said is true, but only half of the equation,” he said when the clamor had died down to a manageable degree. “A good commander knows how to inspire his soldiers to go above and beyond the call of duty. I’ve been under General Mustang for literally all of my military career. It took me a while to realize how an extraordinary commander can have a profound influence on his subordinates, how he can change the lives of the soldiers under him, just by giving a shit about them as people. Our General is that kind of commander. He gives a shit.” And as the icing on the cake, Ed stood at strict attention and offered a crisp salute before draining his mug.

Mustang returned the salute in kind, waiting for the cheers to die down.

“Thank you, Colonel Elric,” the General said with a twinkle in his eyes. “That said, I have a proposal. A round of drinks for all, on me. What say you?”

It took much longer for the cheering to fade this time as the room bellied up to the bar to claim their due. Ed settled back into his chair, ready for another round himself but willing to wait until the stampede was over.

Roy eased back into his seat as well, placing his drink on the table and leaning back with a contented smile. Gloveless, his finger absently traced the handle of his mug, hand steady even though he had been drinking for a couple of hours at that point. Ed had been drinking for at least as long, which was probably why he reached out without thinking about it, taking Roy’s hand. Ed felt it twitch in surprise, but Roy didn’t pull away. Edward turned the hand palm up.

It was a strong hand, supple fingers curled and lax, nails neatly trimmed. It was an elegant hand, despite the calluses and scars. Ed had seen these hands a thousand times, clasped under a smirk, gripping a pen to dash off a signature, poised to snap complete and utter destruction. Were a man’s hands supposed to be beautiful? Ed stroked his thumb over Roy’s scarred palm and decided that he was tired of waiting.

"Fullmetal." Roy’s cautious tone was oddly clear over the racket in the tavern. “Ed,” he said more gently when the other didn’t react.

Ed lifted his eyes to meet an expression completely sober, the cocky smirk unusually absent from the other man's face.

"You don't want to do this,” Roy warned.

Quite the contrary. Ed absolutely did.

"Roy-"

“No Ed.” Roy tried to take back his hand, but Ed tightened his grip. Roy sighed. "Seriously. You’re making a mistake."

"No. I’m not."

And this was going to be a familiar battle. Ed had been doing this all his life. Standing up to people who thought they understood his needs better than he did himself. Stubbornly battering down barriers set between him and the things he wanted. Knowing when it was worth digging in with dogged determination. Knowing when it was important. He may have refined his aggression over the years, reined in his temper to channel his fury to more productive purposes, but he would never be a pushover. The important things were always worth fighting for.

But Roy Mustang wasn’t a pushover either.

"It's not you, Ed," Roy said earnestly, apologetically.

"Then what is it?"

By his furrowed brow Ed could tell that Roy didn't seem to know how to answer, and Ed realized that this was probably the first time he’d ever seen his supremely confident commander at a loss for words. He had a desperate, trapped air about him, and Ed didn’t know whether to be pissed off or pleased that Roy never seemed to have this much of a problem falling into bed with just about anyone else. 

The General finally came to a decision.

"Come on," Roy said decisively as he hauled Ed to his feet and pulled him to the door, then out into the night.

It was marginally quieter in the street. A few solders were carousing on the boardwalk, likely finding the tavern too noisy or too confining. Roy all but dragged Ed past them, ignoring the drunken wolf whistles tossed in their wake.

Roy kept walking until they were off the main street, in the shelter of a small playground, the meager light of a crescent moon lighting their way past the swings.

"So, you think you want me," Roy said with resignation, finally releasing Ed’s hand.

"I-" Love you, Ed wanted to admit, but decided against it. "I do want you. Yeah."

"Just about everyone does," Roy muttered without the smirk and smugness such a statement would naturally imply. "Men. Women. It doesn’t matter. It’s all very superficial of course. A quick romp, and done. That’s all they want. Nothing more."

“Is that all you want?”

Roy didn’t appear to notice that Ed had asked a question. "You don't understand," he said. “I am at the mercy of a reputation built over the years for an entirely different purpose. The vacuous playboy. Someone my superiors didn’t have to worry about or watch their backs around. It was all designed to distract from the fact that I was aiming for the top, and had the wit and determination to get there.” He sighed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment. “The side effect is this: now that I’m close to my goal, my reputation as a, a . . .”

“Man whore?” Ed suggested.

Roy grimaced. “. . . has followed me. I’m taken as a serious contender, but that has made it even worse. Now people want me for what they think I can do for them as well. Everybody wants a taste for one reason or another. I’m like a trophy, sought after for the prestige catching my eye affords. But when the trophy has been claimed, that’s it. They’re done. Because nobody wants a, well, yes, a man whore, long term.”

“Yeah, sorry. That was a poor choice of words. It implies that you got where you are by trading sexual favors for promotions. Anyone with half a brain knows that you legit earned everything you’ve gained.”

“No, it was the perfect choice of words, because it illustrates what I’m saying perfectly,” Roy said without bitterness, completely matter -of-fact. “It’s how I’m perceived. And that’s my point. If we get together, you’ll be judged by the company you keep, and I’m not good company. I’d be a stain on your reputation that would likely be difficult if not impossible to remove. You don’t want me, Ed.”

The perfect candor shining in Roy’s eyes stirred up a deep emotional response in Ed.

Anger.

“Don’t tell me what I don’t want, Mustang,” he growled, keeping the explosion to a manageable level. “It didn’t work when I was twelve, and it won’t work now. If you’re not interested, that’s fine. No harm, no foul; we put it behind us and move on. But I haven’t heard you say anything like that. All I’m hearing are reasons why I shouldn’t be interested in you, and they’re all bullshit, because you can’t convince me not to care about you.”

Roy stared.

“Yeah, I want you. But not just for a fucking ‘romp’.” Ed snorted in distain at the word and continued to rant. “I want to take you out to dinner, and listen to you talk about your hopes, and dreams, and all the things that matter to you. Better still, I want to take you home and cook for you myself. I want to relax with you on a lazy weekend and enjoy your scathing commentary about current events along with your corny jokes that make me fall off my chair laughing. I want to talk to you about all the things that matter to me, and you’re one of them. I want to show you all the ways you’re special, because you are. And yeah, if we end up in the sack, I don’t want a single night. I want to wake up beside you every fucking morning for the rest of my life. That’s what I want.”

Even in the dimness of the park Ed could easily see that Roy was blushing, jaw slack and speechless. Well, that was a first. And cute as hell, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

“Are you done?” Roy finally managed to ask.

“Actually, no.” There was something missing from Roy’s explanation, and Ed thought he might know what it was. “Who was it?”

Roy frowned. “Who was who?”

“The asshole who hurt you. Who made you feel like you weren’t worth it?”

“Well, me, I suppose,” Roy said slowly. And then his frown deepened.

“Who else?”

“Ed –“

“You know what? Don’t tell me.” As much as he wanted to hunt that person down and fuck up their shit, Ed didn’t need to know. “Whoever it was, they were wrong.”

“No. They weren’t,” Roy said. “There was . . . someone. A long time ago. The truth is, I ended it, because I knew he wouldn’t, and it was the right thing to do.” Roy’s smile had turned weary. “He tried to hide it, but I could tell he wanted . . . different things. A different life. We were both quite young when we got together. It wasn’t fair to hold him to promises made before either of us had a chance to sample more of life’s options.”

Ed kept his expression carefully neutral, but holy shit, his mind was churning up all kinds of interesting speculations.

"For a while," Roy continued slowly, his eyes sliding aside as his tone turned pensive, "it didn't change anything, except that we were no longer intimate. I turned to more frivolous pursuits to indulge my . . . romantic nature, and adopted that behaviour as a strategy to fly under the Brass’ radar. My ex and I were still close friends. I didn’t . . . hurt. Until his wedding day. I guess, deep down, I hadn’t actually accepted that it was over until I was standing by him at the alter as he told someone else he was theirs forever. I was honestly happy for him, because his dream was coming true. As for me, I thought the pain would soon fade, since there was no longer any way to deny that it was well and truly over.”

Roy fell silent, and Ed had to finish the tale. "It didn't."

"No. It didn't. Not entirely, even now, these many years later. So you see, don't you Ed, why I can't start anything with you? You’re much younger than me, not much older than I was when my ex and I got together. You could easily have a change of heart, and I wouldn’t even blame you. But it’s much easier, safer, for me not to hope. I can’t go through that again with someone I honestly care about. You’re a damned good friend, and I value your friendship more than you can possibly comprehend. I don’t want to lose that. Or your trust. As you’ll always have mine."

Ed almost felt bad about pushing this; Roy's trust wasn’t easily earned or something to take lightly. But this wasn’t just about Ed anymore. It appeared that Roy had committed himself to a life of avoiding relationships that promised anything more than basic physical intimacy, and that just about broke Ed’s heart. Even if Mustang decided that he and Ed would never be a thing, a man like Roy – courageous, noble, and a hopelessly romantic dork underneath it all – deserved to have someone in his life who appreciated all he had to offer. Instead, he was locked in this solitary existence and whether he knew it or not, needed someone to break him out. Someone like Ed.

No surprise Mustang was a walking contradiction. An introverted extrovert. Or maybe an extroverted introvert. Go figure.

Now. How to proceed.

Ed decided to tackle the problem the same way as he would handle a complicated mission briefing.

"Okay, so let me summarize,” he said briskly. “You don’t want to ‘start anything’ with me because a) you have a reputation as a player, and b) you’re afraid that you might get hurt again. Oh, and c) you’re also afraid that if it doesn’t work out we won’t be friends anymore. The jury’s still out on d). That you’re just not interested." Ed raised an inquiring eyebrow to give Roy a chance to check that box.

He didn’t, even though it would have decisively rendered Ed’s argument null and void. Honestly, Ed was more than a little relieved. Not to mention encouraged.

“So, I’ll outline my observations point by point.” Ed folded his arms across his chest. “Point A – you have a reputation as a man whore, which, while deliberately cultivating such a reputation was initially to your advantage, is currently problematic. Solution: enter a committed relationship and turn down all future advances based on this change in your civil status. That would effectively curb those seeking access to the contents of your pants, thus laying, so to speak, the groundwork for the development of the new and improved image you wish to cultivate.”

Roy tilted a small smile but didn’t comment. Typical. He always waited to hear everyone else’s thoughts before offering his own.

“Point B – based on a previous relationship which resulted in a negative outcome, you’re afraid that you’ll get hurt again.” Ed sighed. “News flash, Mustang. I’m afraid of getting hurt too. Do you know why I’m pursuing this anyway? Because I’m more afraid of not speaking up and regretting it for the rest of my life. Yeah, it might not work out and that would suck. But it could also be amazing. I want to find out.”

“You always were the bravest man in the room,” Roy said with a chuckle.

“Bullshit,” Ed countered. “Point C – is also bullshit. We have been at odds practically since the day we met, we don’t see eye to eye on more shit than I could ever list, and you’re a smug, manipulative bastard. That doesn’t change the fact that I trust you. You’ve had my back since day one, and I will always have yours. Whatever happens, it will never affect our friendship. That’s a promise.”

Roy rubbed his chin, processing Ed’s analysis. “You have made some very astute observations, Fullmetal, and summarized the situation concisely,” he said, considering. “How would you suggest that I proceed? Assuming I take your proposal into consideration of course.”

“My recommendation is that you take some time to consider your options. When we get back to Central, I will invite you out on a proper date. If you decline, no harm done. If you accept, we’ll see how it goes, then collaborate to adjust our plans accordingly.”

Ed stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels, and crossed his fingers.

Roy took his time, head tilted in contemplation, weighing the pros and cons as he gazed past Ed’s right shoulder into the depths of the night. Then finally he smiled, openly and honestly.

“I accept your analysis Edward, and your recommendations,” he said. Then his smile turned roguish. “And as for point D . . .”

Roy closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around Ed’s waist to reel him in. He leaned in and his mouth covered Ed’s, hot and determined, and Ed reveled in the taste of him, a heady blend of rich country ale and clean fresh air. A hand cupped Ed’s nape to tilt his head just so, making him shiver with longing, and Ed indulged himself by clutching Roy’s jacket to press closer still, deepening the kiss.

Roy broke away all too soon, but kept an arm around Ed’s waist.

“Yes,” he purred with a smirk. “I’m definitely interested. I have been for quite some time, in fact.”

Ed had to smile. There were so many Roys, but this was the Roy he knew best: smug and cocky and annoyingly confident, but there were many, many more. Ed wanted to know every Roy there was, to peel back all the layers and learn this man in all his complexity. It would take the work of years, but it would definitely be worth it, and the journey would be more than half the fun.

It also occurred to Ed that if this didn’t work out it was probably going to kill him.

That negative vibe had no place in the moment however, so Ed hauled Roy back down for another kiss, nothing more than a quick peck and a playful nip, before letting him go to step back, out of the man’s embrace.

“Okay, Major General, now that we’re on the same page, it’s time to get back to the tavern before Hawkeye sends out a search party.”

The Major General pouted. “But Colonel Elric, our private party was just getting started,” he protested. “Besides, Major Hawkeye knows I’m with you, and therefore safe and in good hands. She would rightly conclude that a search party was unnecessary.”

“It will be if this goes any farther,” Ed warned. “If I get started, we might be missing for days.”

Ed moved past the man to start back to the tavern, but took note of the way Roy’s eyes darkened with not-so-innocent speculation. Ed kept going, and Roy followed along behind. There was a distinct possibility that his CO was taking the opportunity to check out Ed’s ass.

Ed was willing to take it slow, but it looked like Roy might not be as patient.

Which, as far as Ed was concerned, wasn’t an actual problem.


End file.
